


Not Even the Moon

by wiederherstellendeglaubensregel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Jerk who has Feelings, Alternate Universe - Aristocracy, Arranged Marriage, Class Differences, Influenced by Hindu Beliefs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tom Riddle Being a Bloody Jerk, and there will be consequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiederherstellendeglaubensregel/pseuds/wiederherstellendeglaubensregel
Summary: “What about you, Tom? What are you other than your exalted inheritance and a pretty face?” Those luminous green eyes were gravely reddened; his love stared at him through layers of veils, body trembling in misery. “If I am unworthy of you because of my tainted identity, then I will gain another, even at the expense of my free will and my innocence!”or Tom is this egocentric young Lord who has to right his wrongs. The question is, could he?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	Not Even the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Warning:  
> possible cultural appropriation  
> made-up hindu traditions

No one had a clue about how to react when Tom Riddle, the very man who had gone missing for months, appeared before the gate of the Potter house again. 

Much so when his relation to the young master was so… unexplainable. Some said that they were close friends, so close that they might have crossed the dangerous line of affection.

But what now? 

The festive atmosphere spread around seemed to pause for a second, before every servant and acquaintance of the family avoided facing the uninvited guest. After all, they were expecting a blessed wedding, not some form of destruction, the only thing this notorious Riddle could bring to the table.

Ignoring the whispers, Tom nodded at the one who was kind enough to let him in, and stepped into the house steadily. He walked across the front yard, down the corridor, stomach dropping as he proceeded in the ocean of colors.

Red drapes signified future prosperity of the union; gold ornaments implied the nobility of the groom; the white flower vines marked the purity of the bride.

The thought of Harry being tied to a stranger for seven lifetimes… Tom clenched his fists. He shouldn't have left out of eruptive anger. He shouldn't have sent that letter in a moment of desperation. Now came Tom's retribution, the love of his life was given away by his own hands.

How many times had he run over the floor under his feet? How many nights had he spent with Harry in the garden at the back of the house? How could he, and how could Harry let this happen?

Tom stopped by the door with a window aside facing his own room across the street. In those days of being grounded, Harry would always peek at him suffering from various punishments from this window, wave shyly if spotted.

Only the gods knew that he had bought the pocket telescope just to peek back, at those jewel-like orbs gleaming with adoration, at all the expressions on Harry's lovely face.

Harry, Harry, Harry.

The solid barrier that set them apart was pushed open.

Harry…

❍

The moment those eyes glanced over, Tom almost forgot everything.

Why was he here. What would he do to win back his, and their future. How the mother and sibling that had been irritated at his nerve to show up had warned him before leaving. 

All he could see, could think about was Harry. The missing piece, the most exquisite one, of his soul adorned in the traditional wedding attire—in the way he should look like for Tom, not some irrelevant old man—saw Tom's reflection in the mirror

“I'm back… back to you.” his voice shaken, although he had struggled to constrain the roughness.

The fingers covered with Henna paint that were taming the curly bangs stiffened, nearly unnoticeable, then continued doing their work as if nothing had happened. “Yes?”

“Harry, we still have a chance. Let me make this right...”

Malachite met crimson in silence, searching for the smallest hint of teasing, as Tom had always been when they were little. 

This time, there were none. 

For once, Tom Riddle was serious, yet his determination was so hopelessly late. 

He still believes I'd just wait in place like the fool I was. Harry chuckled to himself. More ironic is that I really want to take his hand and just run away.

And the bride bursted out laughing, pointed and bitter, that stung Tom's eardrum.

“You have to wait for the opportunity until the last moment, right before the ceremony?” He was so agitated that he needed to stabilize himself against the icy glass. “Tom, Tom, my Tommy, how thoughtful of you!”

 _Coward_. The fact that Tom Riddle was a damned coward always escaping from his responsibilities was left unspoken.

“You have your pride, and I don't? Your family has dignity, and mine doesn't?” Leaning on the bedpost, Harry took a deep breath and fought to calm his mind. “I watched you leave in the splattered dust, and you never looked back at the poor soul you had abandoned, not once. Just when I thought nothing could make me more miserable, came your letter, telling me that the feelings between us were untrue, dead if there's any.”

“You know who I am, Harry. You're the only one that should know who I am! I made a mistake and that's it!” Tom pressed on, step by step. His heart was beating wild, in a manner that threatened to jump out of his chest.

“A _mistake_? Was everything else also one of your mistakes?” Slowly, Harry raised his right hand, where the ring, heirloom of the Gaunt line, shined in the warm light. 

He took it off in Tom's face. 

“How, how could you...!” Tom gulped in disbelief.

“You were right, whatever between us was dead. Dead, when Lord Riddle humiliated my mom in front of everyone while you just _witnessed_ ; dead, when you left me alone to face all the mockery!” Harry cried out, tears dripping like rivulets made of pearls. 

Tom was shoved onto the wall. Little bells tied around Harry's wrists and ankles clanged from the violent movement, echoing in their solitude. “Do you know what they call me? Such a disgrace, a whore, a _filthy_ half-blood who dares to seduce the heir of Slytherin!”

Tom lifted his hands with the intention to soothe, but gave up in midair. He feared that even one touch would break the delicate figure in front. “How come that you end up like this, Harry?”

“What about you, Tom? What are you other than your exalted inheritance and a pretty face?” Those luminous green eyes were gravely reddened; his love stared at him through layers of veils, body trembling in misery. “If I am unworthy of you because of my tainted identity, then I will gain another, even at the expense of my free will and my innocence!”

“Such... vanity?” Tom choked out, agonized by the heartbroken confrontation. “Not even the moon is as vain.”

Delectable lips parted with indifference:“How could the moon be vain, with a scarred face?" 

“You will know how much beauty can do.” The heat passing through the silk robes left Tom’s body, his breath stolen. “After tonight, no one will ever again question my status. After tonight, if you’re a future Lord, I will be part of the royal family, even your snobbish father will have to bow down before me.”

There was a sharp knock on the closed door, reminding them that their time was up.

His beautiful, cruel lover turned away from Tom's wounded look. “The die is cast.” he whispered after a sigh. “You better leave.”

Tom picked up the ring that had fallen to the floor, his mind lost. The resolute coldness on Harry's face replayed over and over before his eyes, in contrast with the memory of the euphoria that Harry could never hide from showing once Tom had been in sight; of two teens similar of age frolicking in the grass, hugging, kissing, planning their bright future together.

If he just walked away, he would lose Harry forever.

The sharp edge of crafted serendibite pierced into his palm; the pain that ensued was no match for how his heart had ached. Tom saw the world in red: the decorations, the gown Harry's wearing, the petals scattered about the bed. 

And blood.

“Harry, look at me...”

❍

By the time his senses snapped back, Harry was already pinned under him, struggling and whimpering into his bloodied fingers. Dewy greens widened at his frantic act, unable to recognize the man he had loved, maybe still in love with. So beautiful.

On Harry's forehead, a fearful gash had settled down, flesh mangled, still bleeding. He knew it would be the only flaw marring Harry's perfect body. So beautiful.

Tom left a kiss on the signature of him, the sindoor meant to be applied by Harry's husband.

Not even the moon, love.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by  
> \- Devdas (2002)  
> \- Hamesha Tumko Chaha (Devdas)


End file.
